


Dropped

by allheadybooks



Series: Toi que je veux genderfuck 'verse [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Female Characters, Genderfuck, whole team gender&sexswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allheadybooks/pseuds/allheadybooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny fights her own battles.  She's no damsel in distress.  But if the knight in shining armor is Steve, well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropped

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my sex&genderswap AU, begun [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/193287).  No need to read that to understand this, just know that it's a whole-team swap and Steve and Danny have always been ciswomen.  Also, did you know that 'mastadon' means 'nipple teeth'?

"Steve Steve Steve Steve STEPHANIE JANE MCGARRETT," Danny says, and she can hear the volume of her voice climbing higher and higher, along with the pitch.  It's almost a shriek.  This perp is never, ever going to take her seriously.

But it's worth it if it means she can keep Steve from decking him.  Danny's standing behind her, one hand on each bicep and her bare feet planted between Steve's boots for leverage, and she's hauling back with all her strength but Steve still might just break free and give Ferguson the beating he quite frankly deserves.

"Steve," Danny repeats, to the space between Steve's shoulderblades, wishing she hadn't broken her four-inch platform heels on the perp's knee, "admissible evidence, babe.  We need admissible evidence.  If you beat the shit out of this guy, not that he doesn't deserve it, but if you give in to your weaker urges and break his nose, what is the evidence not?"

Steve grunts, then says "Admissible."  She's still looking at Ferguson, it's still a snarl, but at least she's playing along.

"Cool it," Danny says, and finally--it pains her to do this--lets go of Steve's biceps.  If she caresses a little while she's at it, draws her palms up to the shoulder before pulling them away, well, the perp probably won't notice.

The perp notices.  "Hey, lez," he says, and Danny almost smacks herself in the face because this is where this whole mess started, "you didn't look so queer at the club, huh, when you were grinding up on my leg.  What changed, bitch, you realize you couldn't have me?"

"Steve," she says in a low voice, and Steve crosses her arms.  It's a start; better than fists.

Ferguson is a drug smuggler and a violent son of a bitch and an all-around bad guy, as far as Danny is concerned, and the twenty minutes she had to spend pretending to think he was hot were part of the second-most challenging undercover gig of her life.  She's already ditched the gold sparkle minidress for the spare work outfit she keeps in her Camaro, but the fact that this asshole knows what her inner thighs look like is seriously pissing her off.  Steve, too, by the look of it.

Steve uncrosses her arms, but before Danny can jump in to restrain her, she puts her palms on the thighs of her cargo pants and bends forward, right into Ferguson's face.  He blinks rapid-fire like he's got a bare lightbulb right there in front of him instead of the tip of her long straight nose.

"Hey, motherfucker," she says, a throaty growl that shivers in the join of Danny's aforementioned inner thighs.  "You could die in this room and the Governor of the State of Hawaii would give me a slap on the wrist and maybe, maybe cut my funding.  You tell me whether your life is worth a few guns and a tech upgrade next year.  Huh?"

"Whatever," Ferguson says, but it's weak.  Danny fights a fond eye-roll.  However hot that little display was, it's a total lie.  Governor Jameson would have all their badges if they let Steve kill a perp in custody.  And Danny tries--she's not always successful, but she tries--not to take advantage of the fact that most men will not file a police brutality charge against a woman cop.  It just seems like bad karma.  Steve, on the other hand, isn't trying to take advantage of anything; she was trained to get information by military means and military means includes some death threats, some humiliation, some pistol-whipping if it's called for.

Steve's hand is hovering over the butt of her gun (and Danny can't believe she's hoping Steve's just going to hit him with it; she's pretty sure Steve wouldn't kill the guy, not after what happened to her 'only lead' that first day they worked together, but a non-lethal graze is sadly not out of the question) when Ferguson snaps.

"Okay, shit, you insane cunt, what do you want from me?"

Steve grins with her mouth only, tight at the corners, eyes still slitted.  Danny sighs and says, "Your boss's name, how you got the drugs onto the island, the names of the other distributors and club owners you were collaborating with.  Your social security number.  Your mother's maiden name.  Etcetera.  Now talk."

"And an apology," Steve cuts in.  "For disrespecting my partner."

"What?" the guy asks.  Steve's hand flickers over her holster.  "Fuck," he says, "okay, Jesus, I'm sorry."

"For disrespecting Detective Williams," Steve prompts.

"I'm sorry I disrespected Detective Williams," Ferguson recites.  "Listen, I'm not running this show, okay, I'm small time, I don't know shit.  I got a coupla names, though, but you guys gotta help me out, if these motherfuckers find out I rolled over on 'em I'm dead.  You know that, man.  If I talk, you gotta promise, man."

"Sure," Danny says, "sure, we'll make sure you're taken care of," and yeah, right, she thinks, that's a lie too.  Steve might not kill the guy but today, with what went down today, she'll let his buddies have him no problem.

"Okay," the guy says, "okay."  There's a silence while he takes a deep breath, and then he says, warily, "You want me to talk now?"

"Shoot," Steve says, and grins.

*****

"What am I?" Danny says, tailing Steve out of the interrogation room, "am I some kind of damsel in distress?  Do I look like a pretty little princess to you?"

"What are you talking about, Danno," Steve says, but it's not really a question.  She snags her backpack out of her office and starts for the door.

"No way," Danny says, grabbing her by both arms and pushing her back into the room.  She slams the door shut with her bare foot, as an afterthought.  "You do not do this, Steve.  We talked about this.  This jealous thing, it is cute when we're out at the bar, not saying I don't love to see some sleazy jerkoff's face fall when you grab me and growl like a mastadon or whatever, but _not at work_.  At work, I fight my--hey.  Hey.  Are you listening to me?"

Steve half-shrugs, looking fiercely at the door just over Danny's shoulder.  She's got the strap of her hiking pack in one hand, suspending it just above the ground, and her forearm flexes and unflexes.  Her shirt is sweat-sticky at the pits, breastbone, and upper abdomen.

"I'm listening, Danny," she says.

"Good," Danny says, trying to put some heat in it, but her rant can't survive the interruption.  "What is up with you today?" she asks instead, opening her arms and feeling somehow more vulnerable than she had two hours ago, with most of her skin on display and a loaded gun in the vicinity.

"He put a gun to your head, Danny," Steve says.  Her lip twitches at the corner.  For an Intelligence badass she's got a lot of tells.

"Yeah," Danny says, "that happens like _every day_ since I got partnered with you.  Why are you crazy about this today?"

"No," Steve says, like Danny's being obtuse, "he didn't just point it at you, okay?  I saw it, he had the barrel up against your cheek.  I saw it touch you.  You have _gun oil_ on your _face_ , Danny."

Her hand flies to her cheek.  A smudge of something that could be cream blush, or errant lip balm, but when she sniffs there's a chemical stink to it.

"Yeah, okay," she says.  "You were watching that?  Then you saw me disarm him.  Come on.  Tell me.  What'd I do?"

Steve rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious," Danny says.  "What'd I do?"

"Elbow to the solar plexus," Steve recites.  "Then you ducked, grabbed his wrist, and buckled his knee."

"I dropped him," Danny says.  "I.  Dropped.  Him."

Steve's eyes jerk sideways, as if they're about to roll, but Danny stops her with a hand to the elbow.  "Steve.  Babe.  I dropped him cold.  The fucker is handcuffed to a chair in the interrogation room because I broke a heel on his kneecap, knocked him to the ground, and took his gun away."

"Okay," Steve says.  Danny hears the backpack fall to the floor, but her eyes are on Steve's, one long moment of them just looking at each other.  Steve seems to relax, her posture softening, the long poised arc of her body going slack.  The next thing Danny knows, Steve's hands are on her ass and the hard surface of the door is sliding under her shoulderblades.

"Hey," she shouts, but it's more a giggle.  Her thighs grip Steve's waist, her hands come up to glance across Steve's dark, coarse hair, streaked with gray.  From this angle, Steve has to look up at her, which is a power trip.  "Hey," Danny says again, softly.   

"Mastadon?" Steve asks, muffled slightly by the swell of Danny's breast.  Danny laughs and hooks her naked ankles at the small of Steve's back.

"Sure," she says, "a sexy mastadon," and Steve's lips find hers.  Danny ducks her head and focuses on their tongues sliding together, Steve's steady heartbeat; she knows Steve must be listening for her own.  She breaks the kiss for a moment, makes a shushing noise, and drops her lips lightly along the jut of Steve's cheekbone, the length of her nose.

"I know, baby," she says, "I know, kiss me," and she squeezes Steve between her thighs, and they kiss until it's time to call HPD and recommend that they not offer a deal to the cuffed motherfucker whose gun is in an evidence bag in Steve's desk.  He pointed a gun at a cop; they can't make any other call.  It's all above board.  But Danny catches the sharpness of Steve's teeth, the feral slant of her grin, and she remembers the tense pull of Steve's biceps under her fingers.  Danny fights her own battles.  She's no damsel in distress.  But if the knight in shining armor is Steve, well.  The sex tonight is going to be really hot, is all she's saying.  



End file.
